Page 98 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

Her fearful gaze returns to Pavel and Zoya. I wave my hand in front of her face, redirecting her attention. “It won’t be long.”

She bites her lower lip and glances repeatedly at the door. It’s surreal in here, like I’ve stepped through a time machine and I’m just getting started as a server. All that’s missing is Dmitri’s grubby hands pinching my ass.

I almost flinch when Janine sighs. “All right, back office—but seriously, it has to bequick.”

I’m relieved and exhausted all at once. “Thanks, Janine.”

She picks at her cuticles and leads the way down the dim hallway. I try—and fail—to avoid looking at the office where Pavel fucked away my virginity.

Old Liya.

The memory aches in my mind, and I take a few breaths to clear it. The more Janine fidgets, the more I pity her.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.”

“That guy…”

I glower. “He’s my husband.”

“What the hell is going on, Liya? I don’t see you for weeks—hell, months—and suddenly you turn up as a wanted criminal? Is it true? Did you really kidnap her?”

“The news is lying. You have to trust me.”

“Your brother always went on about his birthright with the Mob, but I always figured it was just his big ego talking. But now, to see it all in person…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Believe me,” I insist. “Please.”

I relax my features. I’m far from happy about her response, but conveying calm is the only way to get her to keep from panicking. “A few minutes, tops. Then we’re out of your hair.”

“Just don’t touch anything. You know Dmitri keeps close stock of this shit.”

Click.

The door shuts behind us, cutting off the usual thrum of bar noise. In here, the distant sound of the jukebox playing pop hits wafts through the door, but that’s about it. Pavel and Zoya exchange a look, and then look at me.

I pull out my phone. “I’m calling Willow.”

“What’s she going to do?” Pavel asks.

It’s more out of curiosity than surprise. He’s always taken that approach to me.

And it’s what I appreciate most about him working with me.

I click Willow’s contact info and then hold the phone to my ear. It rings twice until she picks up, “Hey, girl!”

“Willow, I need you to bring a hat and sunglasses to the place I hate most.”

“What are you talking about?”

I shake my head. “No time to explain. Just do it.”

I disconnect the call, hoping she understands the urgency.

This is a delicate plan. The lines could be tapped. This place could be bugged. We could be under surveillance right now.

But all we can do is hope things go according to plan.

Ormostlyaccording to plan.

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